


Aim for the heart, it should be here somewhere

by NuclearTendency



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Multi, Slight Johnlock - Freeform, id pick moriarty but ya know, its a different love story, john is as confused as always, maybe some mystrade - Freeform, moriarty or sherlock hmmmm, sherlock is wrong huehuehue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-09-30 13:02:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10163603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NuclearTendency/pseuds/NuclearTendency
Summary: (y/n) is one of the snipers at the pool. Working on the other side of the law never made anything hard for you. And than happend the unimaginable. You fell. You fell for a wrong man.





	1. Heart on the trigger

**Author's Note:**

> Yea this is my first Sherlock fanfic sorry if it sucks.

You gritted your teeth and closed one eye.

You received a signal and heard the footsteps.

He was here.

You looked down at a man with black hair and wearing a suit. You secured your aim but didn't turn the laser on yet. You were informed about everything that was about to happen here. Accept who the man you was aiming at is.

Right now you were on a pool hidden from the view and laying on a high ground. She watched as the whole play happens before her eyes.

"i gave you my number. I thought you might call."

Your boss walked out in the open and you turned the aiming laser on, aiming at the bomb strapped to the blond guys chest.

Everything went as Moriarty told you it will, but when tall man pointed his gun towards your boss. Your palms got sweaty.

Your fingers became slippery.

Your heart rate sped up.

You clenched your teeth tighter.

You were ready to shoot.

...

And than Moriarty changed his mind.

You have let your fingers loose around the trigger. The danger was over, no one had to die. You were relieved and just a tiny bit disappointed.

"... No we won't!"

You sighed and watched in amusement at the conversation  
between two men. You shifted slightly, you were about to go home and drink nice, hot, tea.

"Sorry, boys, I'm soooooo changeable"

'dammit Jim, you sure are, you twat' you thought as you quickly positioned yourself.

You slightly panicked, this wasn't in the original plan, but you gripped your sniper nonetheless .

You watched intensely as the dark haired man aimed his gun at the bomb that was now on the floor and you aimed for his head. If he pulls the trigger you're all going down to hell.

Everyone at the pool were freezed in their places, if his finger slips...

/a, a, a, a, staying alive  
staying alive/

Confusion crossed everyone's faces as you looked around. Your attention was brought down to the pool below you by Moriarty's angry threats.

Oh, how you loved when he spoke like that, so full of confidence, when no one could do anything but bow to his commands.

"sorry boys, wrong day to die!" 

And with that, he left. You waited still for a few more minutes, just to make sure he really left.

He did, this time.

You turned off your aim and heard two men sighed with relief.

They left too.

You packed everything and was ready to go home. You were very tired and just couldn't wait to go home and snuggle into the bed next to your boyfriend. He was such a sweetheart, he never questioned you about your work because he knew you didn't like to talk about it. 

You never told him and you felt so guilty about it.

He deserved better

~~~~~~~~~

You woke up the following morning, snuggling next to your boyfriend. Seeking comfort in the heat his body radiates.

Or at least it should be.

You shift uncomfortably in the bed, too sleepy to open your eyes, wondering if he is really still next to you.

At last, curiosity and hunger got best of you and you decided to go to grab some breakfast and search for your sweetie.

When you got up and looked down at the bed, you had something to see.

He was laying there, your precious boyfriend, with his eyes wide open and his face a rather unnatural shade. 

A thin line clearly visible around his neck. 

You gasped and ran out of the room, you went to the living room and sat on the couch. You had to think about your next move.

Your instinct told you to call the police, but since you came home rather late last night you thought it would be no harm in taking your sniper home. Just this once.

Sniper was below the bed the two of you shared and you didn't like the idea of going back to that room right now.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - 

After hours of crying from shock and anger and confusion and panic, you mustered up the courage to go to the bedroom. 

 

You weren't the type that believes in God and church and similar stuff, but part of you really believed this was some sort of punishment for your sinful life.

Punishment for being the person in the shadows, not talking, just pulling the trigger. Punishment for all the blood you shed. 

Punishment for being in a relationship and yet lusting over other men. Punishment for dreaming of men on the other side of the law. Punishment for wanting your own boss by your side when you wake up in the morning.

Yet waking up by your side didn't seem so appealing at the moment. Due to the fact it lacks 'waking up'.

You quickly took your sniper from under the bed, not looking up at your dead boyfriends body. You did want other men, but you still loved him. 

You took some clothes and went to the bathroom to change and than take your weapons to the safe place.  
You locked the bedroom door and were careful at all times to not touch the body.

You loved him, and cared about him. But after spending time watching at his lifeless body, it stopped looking like anyone you care about. You were a killer. You saw dozens of dead bodies and there will sure be a few more dozens to see. Caring stopped being and option, you have already moved on. 

Killers don't attach to anyone.

 

After you have called the police (the sniper hidden safe on a location only known to you) they soon enough flooded the house.

You have been questioned by Detective Inspector Lestrade and you had your best shocked face on.

"All the windows in the flat were closed?"

"N-no, there was one open in the kitchen... I-I honestly doubt anyone got through there, seeing that I live on eight floor. "

"yes, so, are you sure all doors were locked?"

"y-yes, I always check twice."

"And he was alive when you got home?"

"That I don't know, it was very late and I just got into bed, assuming he is asleep."

DI Lestrade looked over and over the notes he had made while you sat in silence, acting, on the edge of the tears.

After a few minutes he finally spoke "I'm not telling you that you have to do this, but i advise you to go and tell your case to another kind of a detective, he will solve it faster than us, i believe."

You looked intently at him as he spoke, this might me and interesting game to play along, you were also dying to know how the murderer did it.

"So, like, a private detective?"

"Well, both yes and no. He calls himself 'The consulting detective', he invented the job."

"Okay, and what is the location"

Oh, this is going to be so much fun.

"221B Baker Street, ask for Sherlock Holmes."


	2. F.U.N.

"Oh, she seems quite determined to get here. She s about to knock. No, wait, she is hesitating at the door." 

John looked at you through the window. You strode to the Baker Street with confidence and indifferent as always, but you need to stop in front of the door to put on your mask. You needed to look as desperate as you can. Like this man is your last string keeping you alive.

"Its some petty argument she had with her father or boyfriend and she wants to confide to us some long forgotten crime of his. Boring." Sherlock replied. He threw himself in his armchair.

"Okay Mr. Deduction. She is coming, we are about to see whether you are right." John replied while you were knocking at the door of 221B Baker Street.

"I'm always right"

 

You waited outside the doors to the living room. Mrs. Hudson is a lovely woman, she was so kind to you. At last you knocked at the door in front of you.

After you heard a voice that approved you to enter you opened the doors and started talking frantically, turning them back to close the door. "Oh my god, I called the police the second I woke up. He was dead. DEAD. My lovely boyfriend was dead beside m-" You turned around to face two men and froze.

It was them.

The men you almost shot at the pool.

"Miss. Miss. Please sit and tell us the whole story." The blonde said kindly.

He probably thought you froze because you were shocked.

At the sound of murder dark haired men jerked up in his armchair. 

Your heart rate sped up and your breaths became shallow and quick. 

Faced with shock you lost your 'Im-shocked-my-boyfriend-is-dead' act and you looked expressionless. In your job, every time adrenaline rushed and something unplanned happens, you were taught to not show any emotions. That's exactly what you did right now.

You were not supposed to meet you targets, because there was always this small chance they saw you. You were never worried about yourself, though. You were born bound to end up in prison someday.

But, if someone sees you, they might track down Moriarty, if they are smart enough. If that happens, prison is the last thing you were worried about. Moriarty could and would make shoes out of your skin, whether you are in jail or not. 

 

Two men looked at you as you sat down and the shorter one went to make you tea.

"Why are you so shocked to see us?" Sherlock, you assumed, spoke to you. Braking the silence.

"I-I.. For a moment I thought I have mistaken the address. So much happened today, you must forgive me... Are you Mr. Sherlock Holmes?" You lied and stuttered and blushed... Blushed?! It was not your intention to act 'blush'. You dismissed it for now, this matter will have to wait.

Sherlock nodded his head absently, looking at you intently. Obviously not satisfied with the answer he got. 

This man was looking right through you. 

It felt as if he was reaching with his hand inside your soul, finding out everything about your life. Almost able to grab the second life you had, your biggest secret. 

But he couldn't, as hard as he tried it was constantly out of his reach. Alost there, but not quite. It was so much fun looking at this man struggle. 

 

Sherlock knew there was something about her, something wrong, something missing. He could not point what. He didn't know and he didn't like it. He already decided to take the case. It was promising. 

John walked in the room with mugs of hot tea and you gladly took one.

"Dr. John Watson" Blond men said, sitting in his armchair, smiling at you kindly.

"(y/n)(l/n)" you answered and returned him the smile, but (seemingly) with less confidence. 

Then Doctor turned to the Consulting Detective with a raised eyebrow. "Well?"

"I'm taking the case, John."

"I thought you said it ought to be boring" John looked at him teasingly, these were the rare moment Sherlock was wrong. He liked these moments so much.

"I was wr- John, I was w- John I was not right." Sherlock was so uncomfortable under Johns gaze, he liked being so superior in Johns eyes and at these times he thought his best friend might leave him. What if he, Sherlock, becomes bad at deductions and John leaves him? What if John gets bored of him?

Sherlock looked at shorter men with slight worry in his eyes and John simply rolled his eyes and flashed him a smile. And Sherlock remembered, he will never bore his blogger.

 

You watched in awe at the unusual relationship these two had. It wasn't necessarily romantic, or they didn't show it, but they were certainly not just friends.

This was getting better and better by the minute.

If you could keep the act long enough you could've find out a few things that interested you.

First: How the HELL killer did it.

Second: These two fellas extraordinary relationship.

Third: A few more things about Sherlock, your boss would be pleased.

Fourth: How the Sherlocks lips taste.

Wait. What. No, nononono. You DON'T need to know that. You didn't want to want that and yet you did. You wanted to know so badly.

You were so right, it was about to be fun.

Fun with capital 'F'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope people actually read this~


	3. The Game

"So, why did you come to us?" Sherlock questioned you and took a sip of his tea.

"She told us her boyfriend is dead" John answered his question.

"And she also said she called the police, therefore, it cant be just any murder. I hope police could solve that on their own. Why are you here?" He repeated his question.

"The door were closed and all of windows except..."  
"Except the one in the kitchen, due to the fact that you live on the eight floor and there are no balconies under or above your window, you assumed the murderer couldn't have entered your flat through there." Sherlock finished your sentence. You were amazed, how did he...? You looked at John, hoping he could give you an answer.

He just looked at you and shrugged, "He does that sometimes."

Now you looked back at the taller men expectantly.

"You smell faintly of spices and burnt food, that means you had failed to cook something and had to leave the window open. It is obvious you have left the window open the night due to the fact that you smell very faintly, if this had happened this morning you would smell strongly of smoke."

You tried to restrain yourself from doing so, buy you smelled your shirt and it really did smell of smoke. When you got home last night you tried to reheat a frozen pizza and went to take a bath, forgetting about the tasty food in the oven. 

You were reminded of it quite suddenly by the smoke filling your apartment.

"Huh." That was all you said to Sherlocks stunning deductions.

He almost smirked. Almost. 

"But how did you know I live in eight floor?" You were dying to know how he found all of that out.

"Oh it must be so boring inside your little brains. I just used pure logic. If you lived on the ground floor or first floor, police would think killer went in through there and you wouldn't be here right now. If your flat was the last flat they would think killer went in from the roof. If there were any balconies, police would assume killer went in from there. Shortly, police would assume anything that looks obvious and you wouldn't be here. Satisfied?"

You nodded and than raised an eyebrow at him, "What about...?"

"Eight floor? Lucky guess. A good one though." This man sure enjoyed interrupting your sentences.

" Huh." That is, once again, all you have been able to say.

John looked at Sherlock, "Have you solved it already?"

"Not yet. This is a rather amusing case, this killer is clever. I would assume something like that case I have solved, I believe you named it "The Blind banker" (as idiotic as that sounds) , but I can't make assumptions before I see the crime scene." Sherlock answered his friend but his posture towards you changed, not physically though. 

You could feel him looking into you. Unlocking every one of your secrets. How much did he know?

"When can we see the crime scene?" Dark haired man turned to you, snapping you back to reality.

"Right now", you answered and turned towards the door.

Sherlock followed, taking his coat and turning to John.

"Come on John, the game..."

"Is on." John finished his sentence with a small smirk at his face. 

Sherlock just smiled back to him and the three of you walked out of flat in Baker Street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being away for so long!


	4. Quote Your Boss

By the time the three of you to your flat the police wasn't there anymore. Everything was just as it had been the night before except the body which have been removed from your bed.

"Tea?" You looked at the two with the raised eyebrow.

After they have both replied with a 'yes' you have turned the kettle on and got the mugs ready.

Your mugs stood on the high shelf, not so high that you can't reach it though, and as you turned around you bumped into the tall figure.

"Sorry, didn't see you ther-" you were cut mid sentence with the realisation that he wasn't about to move.

You were trapped between the kitchen counter and the Detective. 'Oh great' you thought and felt your face lit up a bit.

His eyes looked intently over your face, staring into your (e/c) eyes just a second too long and his gaze lingered on your lips a few more moments than needed. Than he looked at your face as a whole, simply blinked and took a step back allowing you passage towards the boiling kettle.

When he moved you saw John standing in the doorway, you shook his head and turned to Sherlock.

"Was that necessary?" 

"I wouldn't waste my time like that if it wasn't important." 

"Enlighten me."

He just sighed heavily, "A baby would have known and me inspecting you was just making sure in my deductions."

"Please, do tell me what are those deductions that you speak of!" You said with somewhat hidden sarcasm.

"You aren't shaken by his death. At first I thought you were frozen in shock, but now I'm sure. You. Don't. Care."

You couldn't do anything but stare at him, what if he thinks you are the killer? No, i mean, you ARE, but not of your boyfriend. What if he finds out about your job?

Fear was obviously seen able in your eyes.

"I don't believe you are the murderer. If you were, you would be having thin red stripes over your hands, due to the fact that is the weapon used was a thin stripe of some material."

Good, he wasn't thinking about your job. And you ain't a suspect. 

"I do care its just, well, people die. That's the only thing you can rely on them to do. It happens, there is no need to be surprised." You talked, but Sherlock zoned out.

'People die? That's what they do?' He knew this sounded familiar. Too familiar. Sherlock looked at John and shorter man looked back with surprise clearly on his face. 

"Maybe its coincidence." John said, looking at Sherlock and leaving you confused.

Did you say something you shouldn't have?

"Universe is rarely that lazy" tall man replied looking at his friend.

Realisation struck you like a lightning. Moriarty said the same thing. You were sure to keep the confused face while looking between the two. They must not know you know.

It has been a few unpleasant seconds while the three of you had a long silent staring contest. Two friends staring amongst them, having a non-spoken conversation and you staring at them.

"Yes. The window." Sherlock suddenly broke the silence as he snapped back to reality and back to the case.

"Right." You said and John mumbled the same word. You stepped aside to let the great detective through.

Sherlock was talking silently to himself while looking at every little spot of the window, muttering a quiet 'John' as he did so.

Apparently he was talking to John, in a way. His companion walked closer to Sherlock even though he knew dark haired man wasn't actually calling him.

That was yet another thing you have putted on your mind list of their relationship. Sherlock never talked to himself. He always talked to John, even if he wasn't around. Fascinating.

"Murdered didn't enter through here."

To you it seemed like the only possible way in, even if it was impossible to enter that way. You knew for sure no one had the keys to your flat except you and your boyfriend.

And he didn't do it.

"John give me my phone". Sherlock said holding his hand out, palm of his hand turned upwards. He was busy looking out of the window.

"Its in your coat." John answered, more than little annoyed.

"I know."

"Sherlock."

"John, please."

Blond man huffed and reached for pocket of Sherlocks coat, searching for the phone.

Sherlock apparently needed it to acknowledge Lestrade that the killer didn't enter through the window. And that he is keeping the case. He didn't have a locked room mystery for quite some time and he enjoyed it.

This killer was clever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is a lil late, I havent been posting in a while. Srry :o


	5. pushing the limits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may be a little shorter chapter, sorry for not updating!

"Did the murderer know he killed your boyfriend? Did he or she thought it was you?" Sherlock was, as it appears, thinking out loud. Obviously not asking you these cliché kind of questions. He was walking around the flat before finally settling in your armchair, leaving you and John sipping tea and sitting on your couch.

One side of the couch was piled with your stuff so that leaved you and the detectives helper on a rather small place to share. John, being the gentleman he was, scooted furthest away from you he could. You weren't exceptionally bothered by the closeness between you, but it was soon interrupted. 

"John." Sherlock spoke from his seat, his eyes closed and his hands in the praying position under his chin.

"Yes?"

"I need us to change places."

"Why?" John was puzzled, its much less spacier on the couch than the armchair.

"This armchair is uncomfortable."

"Okay", no use in arguing over something so petty as who is going to sit where.

Sherlock sat down beside you, not bothering to scoot away and give you space.

You were trying to move further from him and lean into the armrest. Not that you didn't like being close to him, you just assumed he minded.

Soon you were proven wrong with the fact that, as you leaned further, so did he. 

"Stop moving." his baritone voice somewhat surprised you. 

"Wha-" you started. At least you tried.

"I said 'Stop moving'. I hate repeating myself, so if you could pay a bit more attention in the future I'd be very grateful."

"Okay ? Now, why would I stop moving?"

"Because it makes it harder for me to concentrate. Stay. Still."

This was truly something, now that you knew this, you were interested in how far can you push it. Y'know, before he breaks.

I don't imagine he had a lot of girls.

"Right... Would you mind if I just..." and with that you leaned towards him. You were shoulder to shoulder, him supporting your weight.

He tensed. He was like stone for a few moments and than he relaxed.

"Yes, you may."

There was a long pause and the sound of Sherlock thinking was almost audible. Then he jumped on his feet. Waking you from the slight nap you have decided to take on your Sherlock-pillow. 

"Murderer might return, so it would be for the best that (y/n) comes to our flat for the night."

"Yes, okay. But where will she sleep Sherlock? We only have two beds."

"One of us will sleep on the couch, John." pause "or we can share my bed, its wider and its-"

"No, no, no need for that. I think I will have the couch." Blonde muttered looking at the wall, averting his gaze from everyone. An obvious blush tinting his cheeks red.

You couldn't help but smile at his reaction. They were both already so precious to you. And they have (if you are allowed to say so) taken quite a liking to you too. Sherlock inviting you, a stranger, to their flat and John hasn't said even a word of disagreement. He literally just asked where will she sleep.

It just bothered her that one day they will find out. Tell you off to the police. And you will end up in prison, just like you were meant to.

**Author's Note:**

> I belive it was rather shor, I'll try to make them longer in the future.


End file.
